She Wants to Be a Woman

She is called Sophia.
No matter how thick her lips
is rouged with wisdom just like her name,
even though her whole life is given to God,
and her passion of feminism is being hidden in her breasts,
she wishes to be a woman in her heart?
Then her skin-deep body would follow.
That’s why she said to ordinary women
that sacred and sexual didn’t hate each other.
If she were a virgin, I would be happy but disappointed.
If she weren’t a virgin, I would be bitter but relieved.
Well, how could I pluck a star?
The only thing I could do is to fly
my kite high up in the sky
toward her bosom
that is yearning for being a woman?
Let her be,
if she looks soaked deep in sorrow.

I Shall Be a Flower 8: We are…

We are facing each other like this
Listening to the song ‘We are…’,
Immersing own self into each other’s eyes,
And feel the breath from each other’s lips.
You can call it the will of fate
Or you can draw an energetic picture
Called the power of avoidable fate.
This wouldn’t be a temptation from Satan.
I am not a prey worth drooling over.
This wouldn’t be a temptation from God either.
He, such a big being, shouldn’t have put
This kind of dirty and childish snare
For a marginal human being like me.
We can insist that this is a will of God.
Well, would we feel God’s warm mind
That tries to grant my wish that I want to be a flower?
I decide to become a flower for her…
Why she? All right, all right, all right, but
Let’s try to make myself comfortable.
Looks like shy drank my scent as much as she wanted,
But I was being enchanted by her beautiful wings.
After not-so-long time passes,
What will we become?
We are…
We are…

Night Fog

i read a poem
as if walking in a thick fog
in my dark room.
i read a poem
written by a woman
whose mind even God wouldn’t know.
i put out the dim candle light in the room;
i read a poem
without caring where this invisible road
in the night fog leads to.

with this feeling in the fog as it is
with this dark feeling as it is
i write a poem.
in order for the woman who loves me
to get lost in the night fog;
nah, she wouldn’t even look for a road.
i write a poem.
in order for her
to feel my small breath
to feel my shaking hands
to feel my bitter yearning
in the deep darkness
where even a single firefly
is not allowed,
i write a poem.

Mother of God

God envied people He created; they had mothers.
The Creator rushed down from Heaven devoid of Mother
to the Created on the Earth full of mothers.

God found a shy little girl called Mary
In a remote hamlet, a humongous cage.
Would you be my mother, red canary?
God danced when she sang YES onstage.

God flung the door open and Mary fluttered out of the cage.
He shouted like a thunder; now I have my own mother!

God was becoming a human inside a tender body.
God was becoming a boy with sweet milk of a woman.
He became a man under the tiny wings of a feeble lady.
He became a son of the most elegant human.

God whispered; I love you, Mother!

Poor Mary returned back God’s gargantuan love lavishly!
She made God smile by keep everything deep in her nous.
She made God not to abandon hope for humans easily
by crouching down at the foot of the Cross.

God who created mothers came to know;
mother’s bosom as vast as Heaven,
mother’s love deeper than the deepest well,
mother’s sacrifice beautiful only to the eyes of God,
mother’s suffering allowed only to mothers.

God wanted to magnify mother’s love dearly
by wiping Eve’s stain off Mary’s feathers
by re-creating Mary’s body lest it would rot vainly
by crowning her as Queen of Heaven and Earth
with a wreath highlighted by plenty of white roses.

Now I envy God;
He has the most beautiful Mother!

Yet God glorified us; here is your mother,
He pleased his Mother; here are your children,
while dying on the Cross; so concrete.
That’s God’s love; so complete.

Holy Mary, Mother of the Absolute.
How dare can we call you our mother?
Your son was nailed on the Cross by the resolute.
How can your son be our brother?

Now we have the most wonderful Mother.
She gives us her little love that raised God,
She feeds us her plentiful milk that fed God,
She leads us with her endurance that sustained God.

Mary has shrunken to become my little mother.
Mother of the Almighty has become plain mother of mine.
She willingly has become the mother of this miserable debtor.
She is having a happy life in Heaven with God in shine,
but she flies down to this world to raise us, to raise me.

Mother of God’s; Mother of ours; Mother of mine
Mother, Mother, Mother….

What’s going on, my son? Mary is your mother?!
Mom, she’s your mother too…
Nothing would matter, wouldn’t it, mom?

I crown the mother of my ducklings
as Queen of my Family
with a wreath adorned with wild flowers
and twigs delivered by cardinals.

A Desire in Sunday Morning

God won’t appear to me and say;
“Leave hear and go there…”,
I am not obedient Abraham.

God won’t appear to me as a burning bush,
I am not old Moses with a dream of Exodus.

God won’t appear to me as baby Jesus,
I am not Mary waiting for Messiah.

Beautiful Bathsheba bathing on top of the world,
tore down David who had too many women,
would surely rip me in pieces, who have too few women.
God would know….

A picture of Tulip I painted when I was a kid
was hung on the wall of my Church.
Let’s paint a woman who would destroy me.

Let’s paint God who would reveal
My obedience,
My sleeping dream,
My baby-like tender mind.

Full Human [Gospel of Mary: Page 9:16-20]

Full Human [Gospel of Mary: Page 9:16-20]

In a bright woman’s dream,
God appeared and said
“You are Jesus”.
She looked a bit odd,
but was ignored ‘cause
it was none of my damn business.
Perhaps she is a really bright woman.

A beautiful woman claimed
she was a goddess so
I called her a crazy bitch, but
now I see she might be a full human who
who discovered her own divinity.

I have long worshipped and served my wife
As goddess, but come to think of it,
I am god too…
Are there ranks among gods too?

To Blame God

I envy people who drink. At least they have something to blame everything on. – Oscar Levant

Great words! We should blame others for our problems in order to survive this hostile world. “This is my fault!” might make you a saint, but it could render you neurotic and eventually drive you crazy. Therefore, we definitely need something or somebody to blame on. That is why we need religion. That is why we need God who created us Christians. God created us without our consent so He is responsible for all our miseries, isn’t He? However, the Church that claims it is the voice of God pushes the faithfuls to the sinner’s pit by proclaiming the so-called Gospel saying that we are all sinners who almost destroyed this beautiful world God created for us and we can be saved by listening to the Church’s dogma and obey any rules that the Church made up to maintain the organization. Is Church’s will God’s will? God wants us to complain to Him and challenge Him about alleged God’s will. God is willing to solve any problems we have in this world but the Church blocks the channel to God and impose Church’s will on us. We are God’s beautiful creatures and supposed to lead happy lives in this world and forever and ever in Heaven. So blame God for any problems in your life and ask Him for help! What if God doesn’t exist? If God doesn’t exist, create Him/Her. God gave us brilliant brains to make anything possible including creating God. Too bad some people don’t have God to blame on. I can’t image how they can overcome their miseries. Well, they are all God’s creatures so they must have created something just like we created God to throw all their problems to.